


Death Keeps No Calendar

by kibblewinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dean Winchester, Death, Funeral Home, Mortician Castiel, No Sex, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibblewinchester/pseuds/kibblewinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyday at the home seems like a typical Funeral Director's life, until one day a strange man lies on his table. A precarious situation and lifetime worth of lessons, Castiel finds himself over his head with the arrangements of one particular client and is forced to cope in situations that he has never had to face before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WORK IN PROGESS 
> 
> NOT COMPLETED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOTS OF CHANGES WILL BE COMING

Castiel walked down the old stairs. With each step there was a small creak of wood. His scuffed shoes squeaked and the hem of his pants pulled at a loose nail. The thread snapped as he approached the second to last step. His bloodshot dry eyes looked beyond the bannister to a mug and wavered to glimpse at today's work. Before him laid another body, another job. As he shuffled to the mug his mouth let out a huge croak. His throat tugged at each breath. He imagined there was an elixir in the inauspicious mug. The jagged crack by the handle held plenty of doubts. He took a painful deep breath of hope. There were remnants of instant coffee powder at the bottom. Small clumps stuck to the side of the murky brown water. He decided it wasn’t worth his time to go back upstairs to fix a new cup so he took a swig and decided that was enough. He moved the plain white mug to the nightstand beside the stiff metal table. He sat in his rickety swivel chair and leaned to his desk adjacent to the corpse and gathered papers sprawled among a series of bills, orders, and last night’s take out. That ad for the new Thai place in town in the paper seemed promising but his bowel movements last night proved otherwise. Sorting through the papers he came across a sticky note that caused him to raise his eyebrow.

"Anna! When's this Sam Winchester supposed to come today?"

A faint voice from upstairs echoed, "Later this afternoon! I think he would try around 4, maybe 4:30? They want it done by the end of the week!"

Well shit Castiel thought. Skimming the papers Castiel removed the post-it and crumpled it. He plopped the stack of papers on his desk and turned his attention to the post-it. He eyed the wastebasket across the room. A few steps in front of the stairs evidence of weeks of hits and misses surrounded the wire bin. He arched his arm and flicked his wrist with the tiny ball gliding through air. He narrowly missed the overhanging lamp and as he leaned back the right arm of his chair dropped to the floor. _Fuck this piece of shit_. He thought. The post-it fell next to the basket. A twinge in his left eyebrow and a kick with his right foot sent the arm to slide under the cabinets a few feet behind the metal table. Discouraged and with an aching toe Castiel rolled his eyes and pulled the sheet off the body.

A man’s face smirked at him. There were stitches above his left eye. A faded green hook appeared along his right temple that caused his right eye to be swollen. Bruises peaked from behind his neck. A trail traveled down from his left ear to his left clavicle in a series of yellow, purple, and green. There were several minor scraps and scars, typical of fresh bodies from the hospital. Castiel pivoted, on his bad toe, of course, and glanced through his squinted eyes.

"All right sir, you are, uh, Mr… ah, Mr. Dean Winchester. Cause of death: heart failure. Cause of hospital stay: car accident, drunk driver…people these days, won’t they ever learn?” He secretly thought, _t_ _hese fucking idiots,_ but he needed to get to work and not rant about the stupidity of mankind.

“Um, yeah, moving on. Date of birth: January 24th, 1979. Date of death: June 28th, 2015. Age at time of death: 36 years old. There’s a history of alcoholism, smoking, and high blood pressure. Your family had a history of heart disease from your father’s side and a history of lung cancer from your mother’s side. Well if it wasn’t for the car accident one of these was going to kill you.”

Castiel paused. He thought about his own family. His father had a history of alcoholism, raising 5 boys alone _caused_ him to resort to the bottle. He wasn’t aware of his mother’s family history and his father never talked about her. Castiel shook his head and continued.

“Let’s just do a standard evaluation. I can talk to your brother later about family.”

 

 

Speaking to his clients came naturally to him. Although his clients were dead Castiel considered his job to be “people oriented” and that social skills were its foundation. He’d find it comical at the way loved ones of the deceased would look at him. He knew they saw him as some weirdo who liked to be surrounded by dead people. But hey, that’s part of the job. His mind was now focused on the body in front of him. He had to begin his usual inspection. Castiel had to become familiar with the body. _All of it_. Now of course this would make some stomachs turn, but again that was something that was a must. He had to make sure there wasn’t anything different or God forbid, _missing_. His end goal was to please the family and to make the process as easy as possible. But that was what he loved about his job. The ability to make a person move on from a recent tragedy is a rare skill and one that will never be mastered. It was a challenge that could never be achieved. There was always another way to do his job better.  

“Some large and prominent contusions along the arms and shoulders. Minor cuts across _all_ appendages…minute trauma behind the head especially the left side” he muttered aloud as he wrote.

“Some stitching along the left ear which indicates previous wounds inflicted by initial trauma. Now, moving along…and ah-ha! There’s the scar!” The papers that Anna had scattered earlier on his desk mentioned an operation and Castiel believed he had found the scene.

“You passed on the operation table yes?” he glanced to the stack of papers parallel to the operation table. “Yes, you were in mid-surgery when your heart unexpectedly went into cardiac arrest. That would explain the cause of death and unusual circumstance. I see said the blind man…and oh. What’s this? The doctors from the hospital noted that you have had a long history of stress and alcoholism. Oh.” Castiel paused and moved over to the notes. He questioned whether it was Mr. Winchester who was the drunk driver, but the paperwork proved he was sober at the time of the incident.

“For a second there I thought I was going to have a problem. I don’t like people who drink and drive. Well, I’m sorry it had to end like this for you.” A still face stared at him. The man’s complexion was a pale blue which was typical for the dead, but Castiel saw the liveliness of the man that once was. He had an array of freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks. A crooked nose that suggested a childhood sports injury. And smile lines that proved that the man before him was one who enjoyed life even if it didn’t treat him right.

“Well Dean we all have our demons don’t we? My vice is of the staying up late watching reality TV, but we all have our own niches” He liked the presence of the dead. Castiel felt that he could bond with them in ways he could not with the living. That was what made his job so special. The dead listen.  

Castiel returned to the table and further inspected the abdominal stitching. It measured around 10 inches in a horizontal line. “Now wha-ouch. Surgery required due to the penetration of a foreign object piercing internal organs. Severe internal bleeding of the liver and kidneys” Castiel winced. He inspected further and discovered more cuts and bruises but, to his surprise a broken tibia, femur and a well-endowed penis.  

Genitals were a part of human anatomy. Castiel had seen several vaginas, breasts, butts, and penises. Some were large and some were small. Some were shaved some were hairy. No one was alike and he very well knew that. That was another fascinating thing about his work. He saw people at their most vulnerable, at their truest form. At his first job, he remembered there was an old woman from a nearby nursing home. She died because of old age, no foul play or trauma. The waves of time washed her name away from him but there was something about her that he did remember vividly, her genitalia. She had a 40's styled pin-up girl buried under her bush. It was quite a surprise. Someone her age with something so, _scandalous?_ Either way it caused him and his partner to chuckle and was a small reminder that when you're dead, nothing can remain hidden. And in this instance Castiel understood why this man in particular indulged in his pleasures and surrendered to decadence. It wasn't that he was above average, if there even was the sort, but it almost smirked at him. The slight slant and curl of the tip. It seemed to almost mocked him if that was possible. The penis wasn't malicious, but it undoubtedly was not innocent of some _unholy_ acts that were bound to make even the purest and most virtuous blush.

After the initial inspection, Castiel wrote up the paperwork required for the family to give to the state. It never took much time and it never really was much of a headache. Sure, his business ran slow and money was always tight, but he never had a problem with the client's family. Castiel always did a good job. Quality over quantity was his motto from day one and the clients typically came back. After the first meet, he liked to take personal notes of the bodies. It was another thing that made his profession so much better. The intimacy. Sure it was with dead people, but there was more. Watching a corpse is unique. An experience that is raw, real, and riveting is a rare occasion at almost any job. But of course, people thought this was strange and in a way: alarming. But that was irrelevant to him. Connecting to another? That gave him the presence and comfort that Castiel yearned for.

Startled by a crash upstairs Castiel rushed before turning his head to check that Mr. Winchester was at peace. He caught himself checking out a client, but brushed it aside as he hear Anna muttering.

"Shit! I'm so sorry Mr. Novak! I was just…carrying a file and I…bumped into the table and it just-"

"Anna it's fine. Let me help you" Castiel kneeled and picked up papers. Anna's red hair covered her face and blended into her blushing cheeks. The pins that were supposed to be holding her hair were falling out scattered and her blouse had a coffee stain that was accompanied with yellow sweat stains that were peeking out from under her arms. Her hands frantically tried to organize the papers but her jerks made it impossible. Castiel sighed, "Anna, why don't you just get something to sweep up the glass. I don't want to have to sew up your fingers"

The timid girl froze and quickly stood up. She hurried off into the kitchen to find a broom and dust pan. In her absence, Castiel peered at some of the sheets in front of him. Most were bills and tax statements with a couple of magazines. But what caught his eye was a graduate program application with Anna Milton written on top. He grinned and filed the papers in an orderly manner and placed her application on top as she rushed into the hallway.

"I'm so sorry. I can't believe I wasn't paying attention. I just didn't see the table, and I-is that my application?”

“That is your name isn’t it?”

“Erm, yes…” Castiel could see Anna crumbling inside. He chuckled.

“You know Anna, I expect better from you. If you expected a letter of recommendation this simply won’t do. I want to apologize for what I’m about to tell you”

Anna’s face froze and her jaw dropped. “But Mr. Novak! I’m sorry! It was an accident!”

“An accident is not what graduate programs will see this as. Mistakes are not acceptable Miss. Milton. I’m truly sorry”

The girl was almost in tears when Castiel smirked, “I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off to dedicate time to your application. I think I’ll get along with my papers just fine”

Shocked, Anna stammered, “Please don’t fire me!”

“Anna I’m not firing you. I was being a smartass. It’s okay. I’m not upset with you”

She let out a forced laugh and Castiel continued. “Anna, breathe. Take the day off. You’re obviously very busy. Why didn’t you tell me you were applying?”

“I. I. I don’t know. I'm just so sorry Mr. Novak. I was worried that you’d need help and I knew I would need a recommendation and I didn’t want to let you down and I-“

“Anna it would be my pleasure to write you a letter of recommendation.”

Anna’s tears of fear trickled down her face and she hugged Castiel. “Thank you so much Mr. Novak. The least I can do is clean up the mess I’ve made” They looked down at the broken vase that scattered the floor beneath them.

"It's fine Anna. And besides, you can't put that back together. It's gone."

"No, no, no! No it's not. Mr. Novak I will fix this for you. It can't be broken. It can't!"

"Anna."

"Was it from a store? I can buy it again so you don't have to worry about it. I'll make another if I have to!"

"Anna, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm sorry!"

"Anna, listen to me.” Castiel guided her to a nearby chair and held her shoulders. “Calm down. The vase belonged to the family. It was an old piece of crap anyway."

"Oh god, oh my god. I'm so sorry." She started to tear up again

"Hey, don’t cry. It’s just a stupid vase. Don’t worry about it. Go home. Take a quick nap and get started on those applications okay?”  

Anna nodded and hurried off into the kitchen. She returned with a dust pan and broom with her car keys between her fingers. She exchanged the cleaning supplies with her papers and scurried out the door. Castiel picked up the dust pan and swept up glass as he heard the ignition of her car and soon the roar of her engine as she sped off home. Smiling, Castiel disposed the shards of porcelain in the trash. He was honest about it being a stupid vase, but it did have some sentimental value. It belonged to his mother once. He never knew her well, but the vase was all he had of her in physical form. His brothers didn’t share with him much about their mother and he was lucky at all to even hear from his family at all. Castiel rarely heard from his father and the only brother he would hear every so often was Gabriel. But the news he’d share would be the same, “Hey bro, just thought I’d say Merry Christmas” or the typical “Hey bro, wanted to wish you a happy birthday!”. He never chatted for long and he never mentioned the other two brothers.

A faint beep startled him as he was finishing up. The alarm annoyed him as he went towards his bedroom upstairs. Castiel saved money with his workplace that also served as his home. Sure it was strange living in a funeral home, but a home is a home if that’s what you want to make of it. The culprit of the incessant beeping was that of a small smoke detector. He shrugged it off as he knew he needed to get more batteries. He went into his room to take note but hurried to continue his work with _Dean_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE TO BE ADDED/CHANGED SOON


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe it was the way his eyelashes settled on his face or the freckles that kissed his cheeks, Dean Winchester looked at rest. The day's work was coming to an end and Castiel wanted to relax and enjoy the presence of such a man. He would never know his true story, but he liked to imagine. This man laying in front of him, this Dean Winchester, was sure one hell of a guy. He was hot for starters and he had a heart of gold. There was nothing about him that Castiel thought was a bad trait. He loved his family and wanted to help others. Sam's voice echoed through Castiel's mind. 

"He has a wife"

"She's really shaken up"

"I don't know if she'll make an appearance"

Such a shame. His own wife hadn't seen the body since the accident. 'Til death due us part' Castiel thought. Yeah, sure. Some kind of agreement marriage was. Nothing happened on weddings, they were pretty much pointless. People spend all their money and wait years for one mediocre day. There aren't rainbows and unicorns that come out of the skies and there certainly aren't happily ever afters. Marriage was an agreement that's only good for swindling people of their money and scamming them into buying the newlyweds some cheap gifts from the closest Bed Bath and Beyond.

Love is an illusion. The perfect couple is a lie. Perfection is not possible. Which was what drove him crazy. In a world obsessed trying to achieve something that promised inevitable failure he felt that he was the only one trying to make his own path. It was a tragic story. His efforts to ignore the expectations of perfection threw him down and demanded him to accept it. Every step he took, every breath he drew, and every beat of his aching heart demanded him to look. It demanded to find that part of him that would result in completion. It was absurd nevertheless but that never stopped the gnawing pain that ate him alive. Maybe that was the point of love. It destroyed a person until there was no one left. Love wasn’t something that an individual wanted, but rather forced into believing. It made sense to him. From a young age all he can remember being told is to grow up, find that special someone and settle in until you die. In a world where everyone is supposed to be different his or her destinies weren’t so different from his own. Falling in love was supposed to be sweet and desirable, but he never experienced that. From his perspective the idea of love was to trap you: consume you and pick you apart. He was supposed to fall in love slowly and gradually. With every look, touch, and thought he was supposed to grow ever more enamored with a person that would be a stranger at first but be your other half in the end. It was peculiar. Out of all the inhabitants of the world you were destined to be with one. It seemed odd that most stories came from people who never travelled further than their own town or continent. Love seemed available around the corner with just enough belief and determination that that was it. From what he understood love could easily attainable as groceries. Another point to cross off the list of life. Nothing less than a gallon of milk or a tray of eggs. It made him laugh. He would hear stories of high school sweethearts living to a ripe age and dying within mere hours of each other. Had these people not once think to themselves that the same characteristics they thought were so special in their partner be found in another person elsewhere? Surely there were enough people on this planet where there could at _least_ be _one_ other person who fit the bill. So he scorned the idea of love at first sight, an excuse for utter infatuation, and held a deep disdain for those who asked him if he found that _special_ someone.

He liked Dean sure, but there wasn't riveting about him. He was a dead man after all. Castiel liked all his clients though, he had to, otherwise it would be weird embalming some person's arm or penis. But the thought that a spouse, though as ridiculous the concept of love was to him, denied to be there  _after_ death made him slightly angry. He saw it as unfair. In what way was it acceptable for someone to take no part in the funeral arrangements of his or hers deceased love? To Castiel he thought it reflected poorly of her character. The unpopular belief that marriage was pointless began to show as this woman's choice proved to be rather self-centered. Regardless if he knew her or not Castiel could and would judge her. No one was there to listen and no one to scold him. He silently brooded at the fact that such a lovely man was glossed over by the one person that in his lifetime was the only one he would ever truly  _love_. He pitied the dead. Until the end are the intentions of the living revealed, but the dead aren't there to discover that. They are left in a sea of ignorance that licks them with the hope that when gone their loved ones will be faithful to the end. 

Castiel concluded that this was probably why Sam had wanted to keep the eulogies opened to everyone in attendance. For the brother of the deceased was unaware of the words of his brother's wife would provide let alone actually present. In a way it disgusted him. This was entirely disrespectful of a new level. After everything Dean did for her, as told by Sam, how could a woman deceive a man who believed he loved her after death? It frustrated him beyond comprehension and he let out a strained sigh, "You really are one good guy Dean" 

Silence.

"Sucks to have a wife not love you  _that_ much. But hey, what do  _I_ know about  _love_? For I never had a  _true love_. My experience with the the mere thought of it is enough for me to rip someone else's head off a throw it down a flight of stairs. But you know, I couldn't  _possibly_ do that now could I?" Castiel snickered through his teeth. He continued his preparations for the body and laid out the utensils required to slice and dice the man's body below him. He had to take diligent care in what he was about to do. So this of course would require a small talk between the mortician and his client. 

"I've heard some of your little escapades you've had in your days. Even though you don't know me I know you and I got to say, you are one hell of a man."

This continued for a while. The more Castiel talked the more he revealed about himself and the more his filter ceased to exist.

"My mom died too. I was younger. I didn't get to know her that well. My dad, well, he said I had her eyes. These blue orbs of water, I never was good at describing things, good thing I'm not a writer" the room was only filled with Castiel's own laughter.

"She had these giant blue eyes apparently and she would do this thing that when she got surprised or mad at one of my brothers they would get big and then narrow, like she had this squint that when you saw it, oh man were you in trouble. My brother Michael told me how she would tell stories from the Bible, she personally liked the one of David and Goliath. A story of a hero who went against the odds. A story about bravery and rising up for what is right. My father always said how she was free. I'm glad to know that she finally is free. Wherever she may be, she's not here, and that's a good thing

"Now I wonder, maybe that's why I'm the odd one in my family. With addition to my age and my similarity to my mother, my brothers were almost all the same. Respect father and mother, work hard, do the right thing, and be the best example. In a house full of boys I'm surprised it wasn't very dirty. Dad was an alcoholic but once Michael turned eighteen he got the beer and liquor. He was the one who ran the house. Mom was gone for nine years of his life and one of mine. She died of cancer. Some rare and aggressive form. It's always cancer isn't it? It's always the reason for some deaths, it could be just lazy writing by God, or the creator of everyone. Maybe it's destiny or maybe it's the fates. Never really big on Greek mythology, but I know a few things...

"Look at me, I'm sharing my entire life story to a man who never even knew I existed, well the dead get to rest while I get to keep working, so you might as well shut up and listen Mr. Winchester because you are sure one good listener."

Perhaps Castiel gone insane. If he had it would have been years ago, probably right after his birth. Babies are never safe. No matter what mothers do to try to protect their children the safest place for them is either in the womb or in a tomb. The world is an rough place and babies stay children forever. Funnily enough, everyone is a baby and a child. They were all young once and they all never knew the harsh reality of the world. Death was just a rumor. Sex was just a bad word. Love was something for adults. And grief was something for the sad. Children never had to face those realities, they were always shielded from it. Everyone learned one way or the other about these things. Castiel didn't remember a specific point in time when all of these became daily occurrences to him, but could recollect how they changed his opinion of the world that he lived in. It's what caused him to want to become a mortician. He felt like he could observe all the wonders of life without being crushed by them. He could stay on the sideline and be the waterboy for the team. Watch up close and still not get hit. It was the best position in life he thought, I never got hit and I don't have to worry for a while anyway. 

He felt prepared for things. Stuff that was so arbitrary became irrelevant to him. If it didn't have a purpose he ignored it. Usually on days off he would walk through the park, read books, or just people watch. That was one of his favorite activities to do. Again, he liked human interaction just not being involved, the waterboy of social gatherings. That was his inner mortician coming out. It was different to talk to people who weren't grieving. There was something about them that seemed different to Castiel, not bad or anything, and he understood why they were different, it just felt strange to him. Some people in his life were exceptions, but most of the time he was just there to watch and cheer on everyone else. 

"I had a boyfriend once, and a girlfriend too. Morticians get around too. The guy was named Balthazar and the girl was Meg. Short flings both of them were. Balthazar was flamboyant and fun. He knew how to have a good time. It was refreshing to be around someone like him. He was literally the life of the party coming over to the home. No pun intended, but wherever he went he was vibrant and full of light. Meg was a little different. Easy on the eyes and a sassy tongue she also knew how to laugh. Which, after talking to dead people for hours, was refreshing. The relationships ended mutually. In both instances neither of us felt like it was going anywhere. So we decided what would be best for both of us and moved on. I still keep in touch with both of them if either one of us feels like talking."

The motionless body of Dean Winchester laid on the cold countertop of the table. He stayed there calmly, the cuts around his face were starting to heal, but the bruises were becoming more yellow and causing his skin to become more tinted. 

"I heard you had some nice eyes. Sam showed me some pictures and they were quite the spectacle. I should probably have a look and well, I'm just curious..."

Castiel felt awkward lifting the eyelid of a dead man's eye. Yeah, he's done it several times before to check for any injuries or issues with the body that went unnoticed, but this was just for the fun of it. Sometimes he forgot how morbid he could be and it even grossed him out a little. But as Castiel noticed the stunning eyes, he became entranced. Such beauty he thought, but his inner voice in the back of his mind spat out a quick 'so creepy' to his brain. He felt strange but Dean's eyes were something to be marveled at. 

"And here I was thinking I was the one with the pretty eyes." Castiel scoffed.

The man just stayed on the table. Without a flinch and the way the light reflected off his skin made Castiel realize how strange it is to have someone like this. It wasn't love, but it wasn't his usual patient. He felt more of a connection with Dean than he had with other patients. Something about this man made him feel a little different and a little lighter. He never did anything with the bodies. That was just downright disgusting. But he did admire some. And Dean was something to look at. His dainty eyelashes, his specks of freckles, the little pieces of hair that stuck up in all directions. He was a pretty man. That was just the way he was, but there was something else to him. The aesthetics of a person aren't what makes them  _them_. Unsure of what it was precisely, Castiel questioned Dean. He felt closer to him. He knew most of his basic background but that was it. Castiel was in the dark about Dean. He knew nothing of him other than what he had heard from Sam. 

"Well Dean, I wonder what time it is, but I think it's time to close up shop" Castiel sighed and zipped Dean in a body bag. He rolled the table into one of the drawers and walked upstairs. It never bothered him that he lived above his mortuary. It was a home business and he was always there for the bodies. 

He locked the doors and turned off all the lights. He pursued his nightly ritual of washing up and getting ready for bed. As he washed his face he noticed the faded scars and scratches from his childhood. A few nicks from shaving, especially around his jawline, and some scratches that were faded but still caused some discoloration. He looked so old. The glory days of his youth were long gone and here he was. An old man with nothing around him but his business. Maybe it wasn't the epitome of the American Dream, but Castiel sought to find the irony in life. Everything about it was ironic. From waking up to "living life to its fullest" when in actuality everyone is expected to work and make a living for themselves that hopefully one day, they would get to go on that one adventure. For Castiel that final adventure was death. 

After all that is the whole point to live? To die? Why is that everyone lives in denial of living? People say that they're afraid of spiders or clowns or even silly things like Obamacare but aren't we all afraid of what we all know nothing about? 

Castiel dried his face and prepped for bed. He turned off all the lights and locked the doors. The scuffs of his slippers echoed in the empty and dry hallways. Only a small flicker of his bedside lamp shone from his room. As he nestled into bed Castiel didn't feel like picking up the book he was reading. He was almost done, but his mind wouldn't shut up. He couldn't focus on reading. He turned off the lamp and rolled onto his side.

_Why is it that I've never had a family or a partner?_

_All I've done is been the lone wolf in life. I've shared none of my memories with anyone._

_What will I leave behind when I'm gone_

Funnily enough, being surrounded by death, he never put much thought into death and what comes after. He was aware it was there but he never felt threatened by it. So that's what it's like to get old. To see the good days long gone and to only see the impending loom of darkness approaching. Slowly but surely, death was going to greet him, and Castiel couldn't refuse. 

His bed was strangely uncomfortable that night. Nothing felt right. Everything felt wrong. He had this repulsive pit in the bottom of his stomach that made him feel like he just swallowed a watermelon that had acid in it, if that even was a thing. The windows and shades began to swirl in random motions and the ceiling looked like it was getting closer and further away much like a yo-yo. He just laid there. Closing and opening his eyes. Watching his world around him fall apart. Confused, Castiel slowly got up and walked to the bathroom, resting his hand on the wall with every step. 

The flare of the lights burned his eyes but Castiel just rubbed them and squinted. Cupping his left palm he turned the faucet on and scooped water into his mouth. His right knuckle was barely holding onto the edge of the sink but his knees were shaking. 

 _I'm going to be sick_ , he thought. 

Unsure of his issue Castiel sprawled across the bath rug in front of his shower. Slightly damp and dirty the cool tiles felt good against his clammy skin. He closed his eyes tightly but could still feel the rotation of the room and ceiling around him. Bringing his knees to his chest the deep pit in his gut didn't fade away. He felt terrible and he couldn't make it stop. He pulled off his shirt that was sticking to his back and chest and the brash kiss of the cool air stung. It felt nice but he was still soaked in sweat. He rolled over to face the side of the tub and closed his eyes. He took deep exhales and tried to ease his mind. 

That night Castiel had a dream. It wasn't even a coherent dream, but he remembered it vividly. 

_Some grid. Like a computer grid. It was black and there were an infinite amount of green lines. They just kept going. In all directions criss crossing over each other endlessly. They never stopped. And never ended. That was it. That was all he could see. He couldn't tell if the lines were moving or if it was him. Except, he wasn't there. He had no indication of his presence in his own dream. All he could comprehend was that the lines were going: they were going somewhere and there was no indication whether or not if they were ever going to stop. This was his dream. It lasted for what seemed like forever. It was completely harmless, but he felt scared. He felt a sense of doom lurking behind him, but even if he turned around he just saw lines._

_Above, behind, below, to the right and left all there was was the emptiness of the black void and its green lines. He could have sworn that the lines were judging him. It was like they had personalities and that their attitudes towards him were nefarious. Even in his sleep, he felt ridiculous. To be afraid of lines? They were just there. Just existing and yet, they terrified him. There was no point to them. Castiel felt the sensation of running. Whether if he was actually running, he couldn't tell, all he could understand was that he was moving and that he was trying to move fast but he was getting nowhere. The grid was so large that in any direction he tried going he went nowhere. No matter how hard he tried to move he couldn't and since there was nothing else there for him to see he couldn't understand what was holding him back. He was trying so hard. With all his might and all his will he did nothing. The progress wasn't there and there was nothing there for him. Just an endless and continuous space that consumed his world._

Before he woke, Castiel vaguely remembered a damaged dream. It wasn't clear and it definitely wasn't concise. 

_Mud. He was covered in mud. And he was naked. He was at the bottom of some pit and there was mud everywhere. He thought he heard the voice of someone, but he couldn't see or hear them. They were out and above the pit. Yet something was strange about this pit. He was then thrown into some cell. It was in the pit-he thought. It was like some jail cell. Outside of the bars were torches of fire. He thought he heard voices. Dark and threatening. Although, these voices did not have faces. They were throughout the pit. It was muddy, terrifying, and menacing. It was like they were trying to hurt him. So way somehow they were going to get him and he didn't even know where they were. Somewhere in that godforsaken place was trying to hurt him and he hadn't even seen the face of the culprit._

_In and out of the cell and pit the voice from above kept making sounds. It sounded like a woman, but the voice wasn't very coherent. The sounds of the darker and deeper voices were too overbearing and that was what filled his eardrums more than anything. From the sounds that he could understand the voice seemed like it was asking for help. How? How could he possibly help somebody else when he was trapped in some dirty and muddy pit? The more the voice mumbled and screeched the more angrier Castiel felt. He was the one stuck. He was the one who needed the help. He was naked, cover with mud, and had to fight whatever it was that was trying to hurt him. Some dirty feeling grew inside him. It was disturbing. Part of him liked it. He liked being stuck in the pit and liked being so vulnerable. Maybe it was the voices. The lure of their voices seemed wicked, but also seemed inviting. Their deep rumbles would shake the cells and pit and sometimes caused him to fall into the mud, but he would get back up scared and infatuated._

_It was intriguing. Something unseen. Inviting him._

_Part of the dream also had him in some field. It was just grass with a mountain in the distance. It looked like a scene from an old Disney film. He felt safe and felt otherworldly. Something did not belong and he had a gut feeling that it was him. Flashing back and forth between the three environments Castiel was in a whirlwind of emotions, sensations, and stability. He would switch back and forth in random order at random times. The voices echoing and coming from all areas, some louder than others and some disappeared. Sometimes there was nothing but silence and other times there was nothing but noise._

_Castiel was thrown back into the pit. Mud in his face. Voices chanting. He was exposed. He felt violated and enthralled._

"Mr. Novak!" Anna shook his shoulders. Her face was ghostly white and had some eyeliner smudged. Her lace blouse was ironed except for one sleeve that was wrinkled and looked to be wet. 

The only feeling he had was the throbbing of his head. Cold water was splashed onto his chest and his hair became soaked. His pants were splattered with drops of water and Anna was on her knees with cups and a towel in her hands with a bewildered look on her face. 

"You were on the floor passed out and sweating profusely. I felt your head and you were burning up!" Anna exclaimed shoving a wet rag onto his forehead.

Castiel didn't understand what was happening. It looked like he was on the floor and it seemed like daytime to him but he felt so tired. Anna draped his arm over her back and dragged him to the bedside where he thumped face first into the mattress. 

"Castiel? Cas!" Anna quickly flipped his body over and gently slapped his cheeks to make sure he was still moving. 

Castiel let out a small groan and a low, "what the hell happened" mutter. Anna's face relaxed but her eyes still had this look that seemed so shocked she couldn't stop looking at him. 

"Coffee?" Castiel moaned.

"Absolutely!" Anna dashed out of the room and Castiel heard the pace of her footsteps tromp down the stairs and into the kitchen. As he laid on his bed and stared at the blank ceiling, he tried to remember what happened the night before. He felt nauseous. He went to the bathroom. He laid down on the floor and he assumed he fell asleep. Despite it wasn't a great rest, he still had some. From what he could understand at the moment was that everything seemed to be stationary so something was right. Yet, from what he could recollect from his rest, it definitely wasn't right. 

Anna hurried up the stairs and nearly tripped into the room. She placed the coffee on the side table and helped Castiel to sit upright. She held his mug for him and slowly tipped it up for him to drink. Her voice was a little out of breath, but she didn't stop talking,

"I came to work earlier today because I wanted to hang out with my friends later today. My friend Naomi is getting married next week and we thought we could have a little girls night out before she tied the knot you know? So I came here and had your spare key so I could get a head start on some paperwork that I knew I had to finish before you would ever let me leave early. But I came and it didn't seem like you were awake because the house was quiet and your paper was still out front. I thought maybe you had overslept or that you were downstairs working on a body but you weren't downstairs. I panicked, I rushed upstairs and you weren't in your bed. Your sheets looked like you had slept in them, but you weren't there. I called out your name a few times, but you didn't respond. I checked several rooms and I finally came back into your room and checked your bathroom and I found you there. You were shirtless and sweating. You were rolling around and looked white. I checked your forehead and you were so hot. I freaked out. I got cold water and started splashing it on you. I just didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure if you had a heart attack, a stroke, a seizure, or if you had too many drugs. I thought you were dying!"

Castiel just stared in front of him. He barely understood her entire speech, but he looked up at her with his eyes glazed and said, "thank you for the coffee Anna, you can go see Naomi if you'd like"

Appalled, Anna yelled at him, "Mr. Novak! Have you lost your mind? You were passed out on your bathroom floor and you tell me to go home?"

"I just had an upset stomach, I think I probably had some bad fish or something"

"Since when do you even eat fish? All you do is eat, drink, and breath is coffee! That and the occasional burger!" Anna scoffed and walked to his dresser. She frantically unfolded a shirt and pants and threw them onto the bed, "I can't believe you right now. You're delusional Mr. Novak. You've been working so hard. I was worried. I'm only an intern and I didn't know what to do when I found my boss passed out half naked on his bathroom floor. All I wanted was some college credit! That's all I wanted Mr. Novak! Please stop staring at nothing! I'm over here! Mr. Novak?"

Castiel snapped out of his trance and tilted his head, "What time is it?"

"10:45! You have an appointment at 11 with a Ben!"

"Ben?"

"Yes! Ben! He called last night and said he needed to see you and that he wanted to talk with you about something. You have to get it together!"

Stunned, Castiel crawled out of bed. His footing was more sturdy now and he walked carefully over to Anna and grabbed her close to his bare chest, "Go home. Thank you."

Weirded out by his action, Anna nodded and tip-toed her way out of his room and quickly walked out the door with a loud slam behind her. Castiel sighed and pulled the white button-up over his sweaty arms. His stomach felt like it was sitting on the floor and his intestines were pulled in all directions by unseen forces. His head ached and his body trembled, but he felt fine; there wasn't anything that concerned him. With Anna out of the home and with an appointment coming soon Castiel skipped all his morning routines and went straight downstairs to wait in the sitting room for this Ben person. The ticks of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room. The taste of morning breath filled his mouth and that morning residue on his teeth made his lips sticky. His eyes burned. He was awake, but his eyes weren't cooperating as much as he would have wanted. The curtains hid much of the sun and small streaks of light came in. The little glimmers highlighted the contour of the wrinkles on Castiel's pants. Wrinkled, aged, and stained this was certainly not his best look. His hair was unruly and curls licked the back of his neck. Castiel zoned out again. It wasn't unusual, but the last thing he remembered was staring at the stairs. His heart was smooth and steady. The light on the gray walls were welcoming. 

What happened that night was out of the ordinary. He never had a dream like  _that_  in his life before, but it made him curious. It made him think. Dreams are usually supposed to have some deeper meaning, aren't they? But, with this specific instance, he had nothing to figure out why he had this. What was different in his life that made him have it? Surely there was an explanation. Perhaps it was a later dinner or the stress from work. That was something that Castiel could understand. For some reason he had been more stressed out during work recently. Every other night he was up late working on Dean, filing papers, and cleaning. He was doing things that he should have been doing. Like working on a client or making the home more presentable for future clients. The only thing that seemed to stay with him was that in the past week or so the last moment he felt before going to sleep was dread. Something terrible and vicious. He felt nauseous just thinking about it, yet, there wasn't a specific  _thing_  that he could think of that was causing it. He had no history of sleeping problems. Sure he had your usual high school and college years occasions where you would stay up all night and crash the following day. Drinking, partying, sleeping, that was the life of a young adult. And despite his choice of profession Castiel knew had to have a good time, it was just limited. 

A soft pitter patter caused Castiel to look outside to only find that the sun had disappeared and a large rain storm was overhead. A gloomy overcast darkened the house and created an ominous feeling. Curiosity took over and he checked his phone for any messages left by this mysterious visitor that he was to be expecting. Anna didn't provide much information but she had a rough morning. With finding her boss on his bathroom floor in whatever state he was actually in Anna earned enough to go home and get away from Castiel and his nonsense. But it bothered him. That has never happened. Except for that one time at school, but he was shitface drunk and he had an excuse to be half naked on the floor of some random person's bathroom floor. This was different. This was his home. 

The rain outside started to pick up and a constant rumble would hit the pavement. His desk in his office had papers stacked in an orderly fashion. Anna left a folder on his desk with a yellow post-it on it. It read " _to read_ " in small writing. Castiel moved it to the side and relaxed in his chair. He didn't want to read it. Which was surprising. He never ignored a task at hand. He was always there for it. There was something obviously up with Castiel and he knew it, he just didn't care. There wasn't anything that he felt like was driving him. Nothing seemed to matter. Was he depressed? Maybe. But that doesn't happen overnight and it especially doesn't happen because a bad dream. 

He just seemed dead. How ironic. Life as a mortician and he felt just as dead as the corpses sitting in his basement. The bodies that are scientifically dead have more life in them then he felt at the moment. There was a study Castiel remembered reading about. It was about this doctor who studied to see if the human body actually had a soul. This doctor took the weight of these dying individuals before and after their death. And right after their departure the doctor noted that there was a slight change in the body weight. From the moment that person died he or she lost around 21 grams. 

Interesting. In the split seconds a person is transported back to the state of death they lose 21 grams of their body weight. It was probably something else like the result of having the body stop working or maybe the body was just releasing whatever it was holding onto before it died. It could have been gas or anything else. There was some things that science could not explain but it eventually did. Maybe this was just an example of that. Another thing that caught his attention was that the number lost was 21. Why that number? Why couldn't it have been literally any other number? 

Castiel snapped out of his little daydream and pulled out his phone. He went onto Google and checked "significance of 21" and he had several pages about symbolism and biblical meanings. Nothing surprised him. These days it seems like everything has a purpose somewhere somehow there is always something deeper. After going through some of the results that showed up he found a quote by Claude of Saint-Martin, (somehow he wasn't familiar with but trusted him nevertheless) "...the number 21 is the number of destruction or rather of universal termination, because, as 2 is separated from 1, it is necessary that it has a means of to unite there if it wants it. This number shows at the same time the command of the production of things and their end, as well in the spiritual one as in the corporal one". At first Castiel had to reread it. His mind wasn't as sharp as it once was and he couldn't come up with his own interpretation of the original quote. Despite his efforts to reread the quote he would get lost and eventually flustered. Defeated, Castiel moved on and continued to research this peculiar number. 

Another result said that the number was a symbol that represented the unknown superiors or great spiritual masters of humanity. Could that be the explanation? In his head it made sense. A number that was so important with the idea of a person leaving the physical world into the "spiritual" or "afterlife" state of existence it also was a symbol that has represented the superiors of people. 

"Just coincidental, this is stupid" Castiel muttered to himself. His voice spooked him. He hadn't said anything and his abrupt response caused him to jump a little.  He really had wished he had gotten some sleep last night. 

Annoyed and partially angry at the Google results Castiel pushed himself up from his chair and checked outside again. It was still raining and the sides of the streets had water rushing down the hill. His small maple tree in the front of his house was waving its branches in the wind and his shrubs that framed his walkway obliged to the current of the wind. A car slowly parked behind the maple tree. The headlights were barely visible as the tree covered most of the front while the rest was covered by the bushes that belonged to his neighbor. Assuming that this was his "Ben" client Castiel realized that the lights were not on and that the body was not prepared either. Quickly he flicked the switches of all the lights on the first floor and ran downstairs to pull out Dean Winchester. His body saw the harsh light overhead when the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Castiel hurried up the stairs and his breath was faster than usual. He took a deep breath and opened the door with a deep inhale. 

"Why hello"

 


	3. Chapter 3

A slender woman stared at him. Her hair was wet and covered by a hood. The eyes were bloodshot and prominent dark circles traced them. For a moment the two strangers were silent and gawked at each other; they were both frightened to move a muscle except for the raindrops that rolled off their skin. The eyes were filled with sorrow and had nothing. They were empty and terrifying, but he felt sorry, almost sympathetic. Those eyes once had life in them, he could tell. There was a residue of something that seemed like a former life that flourished. And yet, the eyes appeared like bottomless pits of darkness. Remnants of warmth radiated and this presence, this aura that was in front of him, gave off an emotion of despair and distraught. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to extend his hand and lift her from the torment she endured. That thing in front of him was once a person and it was once the light of the sun that gave the Earth day. Her feet were touching and her back was slouched. Her fragile hands quivered in her pockets. Her pale gaunt face avoided his eyes, but in that brief moment he knew was that he wanted to help. That vulnerable piece of light that once was a great flame had dwindled down to a spark. 

"I shouldn't have come." She mumbled to the ground.

"H-have we met?"

"No, and I'm sorry for disturbing you...I really should just leave." The woman turned with hesitance, her torso shifted but her feet resisted. The drenched jacket clung to her slim figure. She paused for what seemed to be an eternity. Her eyes darted to different areas: the road, the trees, the walkway, the sky. 

"No come in. It's a mess out here. Please." Castiel offered as the woman started to walk away.

As she stepped down the steps she started running and without hesitation Castiel followed. As she sprinted to the street her feet splashed up dirt. Through the burn of the raindrops Castiel saw her fumble with her jingling keys. As he got closer she unlocked her white sedan and jumped in. His feet stopped and he was disturbed. His mind was racing with questions as to who this woman was. He wondered why she ran and why she came. What made her so interested in his funeral home? Carefully, Castiel walked towards the car and gradually glanced through the passenger's window. She was frozen. She didn't bat an eye as he knocked on the window. She was motionless. Her hair dripped water down her neck. The woman knew he was there but did not acknowledge him. She stared ahead. Castiel inspected his soaked trousers that were now muddy and torn. His loafers looked as if he showered in them and he felt the pools of water flow between his toes. He stared at the black pavement and watched the stream of water sweep past the car.

Beside the car, Castiel stood with a stiff back and a bowed neck. It sure was a sight. A petrified woman sitting in her car with her hands clamped around the wheel. A man who stood  outside in the rain with his hands hanging by his sides and his face full of regret. Neither of them noticed their surroundings. Neither of them cared. Both were too invested in something else. A soft rumble from the storm woke Castiel and he slowly knocked on the window again.

"Do you need help? Is it your car? I can help you. You can come in and dry off...I just want to help you." Castiel spoke. Her lips parted and flattened. Her head slammed violently onto her wheel. The blare of the horn startled Castiel. She was breathing in deep heaves as her hands remained around the wheel. Her head rolled from wrist to wrist. He took a step back and moved more towards the center of the road. He watched from a distance what the woman did. After a few seconds had passed she slowly lifted her head from the wheel. Her face was scarlet and blotchy. She rubbed her eyes and cradled her face. Delicate tears streamed down her face as they were wiped away with brittle fingers. 

And then she stopped. 

The back of her hands rubbed away the remainder of tears. Her jacket's sleeve ran under her nose to wipe away any snot. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Castiel paused and stepped forward to knock of the window. His eyes peered through the window and saw her turned body towards with a weak smile. The light that he sensed from before was there, but buried. It was buried under layers upon layers of grief and misery. It was trying to grow but the weight on top only collapsed. The life that was within was slowly suffocating. 

She opened her door and stepped outside. She chuckled lightly and extended her hand over the top of her car, "I'm sorry for that...please forgive me...My name is Lisa. Lisa Braeden." 

Castiel nodded and shook her hand, "It's completely all right. Would you care to come inside and dry off? Maybe have some coffee?"

Lisa grinned and said, "I would appreciate that very much."

She shut the door and locked her car. The two walked casually back to the house. The rain still poured from above and into the street. Castiel helped her up the stairs and guided her to the front door that was wide open. Once inside she took off her soaked jacket and revealed that her blouse underneath matched. It was a lovely blouse, a soft pink that flattered her well. She exhaled deeply and looked around his stain glassed windows. When her eyes lowered Castiel directed her to the living room where she would find the closest powder room. After she left the room he took off his shoes and dumped the water out front. He slowly moved his way upstairs where he pulled off his shirt and pants. Without hurry and in the nude he strolled into his bedroom. He was covered in goosebumps and he didn't realize how cold he was until his teeth chattered. After trying off with a smelly cotton towel he draped a white cotton shirt over his torso. As he stumbled into his closet he navigated his way to the drawer that held his jeans and pulled them up. It wasn't his usual work attire but this wasn't work. In a higher and much dustier drawer he found a pair of old jeans from when he was younger. He didn't own clothes that would fit a woman but he hoped that this would work.

When he walked towards the stairs he heard the door creak open and a faint, "Hello?" and he shouted for her to hear, "Just a minute. I'm coming down" and hurried to her need. As he arrived a hand slipped through a crack and his pile of old clothes was traded with a pile of wet ones. He waited for a moment and then Lisa opened the door. Her torso was swallowed by the shirt but her breasts were noticeable. Castiel blushed and looked down. Her hands tugged at the sides of the pants to pull them up higher as she explained they were too big but were good enough for the moment. She gave a faint smile and a glint in her eyes flickered. 

"Let me make you something warm. Tea or coffee?" Castiel questioned. 

"Coffee would be fine, thank you." Her eyes indicated that she rarely had any rest and her overall appearance supported that assumption. He nodded and went into the kitchen.

"I'm not sure if I introduced myself properly" Castiel said from behind the door. "My name is Castiel. Castiel Novak. This is well, my home, but also my place of work. You see, I'm actually a mortician. I do funeral services for well, dead people." He stammered as he tried to get the right amount in the machine. He never made coffee for more than just himself. Anna never wanted it when he made it. Probably because it was too bitter or something. "I was wondering what it was you were doing here. Did you have an appointment or were you just passing by?" Castiel commented as he pushed open the door to see the stranger stare at his basement door.

"Is he down there?" She whispered.

"Who?"

"Dean."

"Wait. Are you? Are you his wife?"

She laughed. It was a strained laugh. She looked down and covered her mouth. Her head was nodding but she was silent.

"Oh, I see" Castiel glanced at the floor. Her muffled sobs danced off the walls and vibrated through the air only to be disrupted by the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. 

Castiel walked over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder, "Would...would you like to see him?" he said. She looked up from her hands and glared at the door, "Yes. I would."

Their footsteps were heavy, but Castiel led the widow down the stairs. She lagged behind him which gave him the chance to get to the body before her eyes did. He hurried over to the corpse that was already pulled out of the cabinet. The body below was the man that had had his undivided attention for the past few days and here he was, stirring some more trouble. A faint gasp disrupted his trance and Lisa stood over her dead husband's body. There was no reaction. Not a tear. Not a sob. Only a look. A look that gave him the chills. Her eyes were empty, her cheeks flushed and skin pale. Her arms held tightly across her chest. She just stared. Castiel expected more of a reaction from Lisa, but yet again, he had never been in her position before. Death was normal to Castiel. The thought of one of his loved ones did not disturb him. If anything he was more concerned with their well-being after death because of his hands on experiences in such situations. But, this was her husband. The man that gave his vow to stay with her and cherish her until the end of their days. For a couple as youthful as Lisa and Dean the thought that separation due to divorce would have been more probable than death. 

The corpse rested on the steel table. He had this smirk on his face. It looked as if he knew she was there and whispered a dirty joke into her ear. She was not laughing.

Castiel stepped away from the widow and walked upstairs. He did not say a word. Quietly he brought a tray of coffee and cookies out of the kitchen. Food wasn't going to make the situation better, but it could help alleviate the pain of seeing the one you once loved laying on the table of a stranger's table. The air was thick in the morgue. Cold and firm. Castiel was unsure of what to say. Nothing seemed appropriate. Apologizing would only be that. Apologizing. They both knew it wouldn't bring back Dean. Usual circumstances wouldn't force Castiel in such a situation. The spouse of the deceased are the ones who make the arrangements. Mr. Winchester obviously knew how to be a pain in his ass. 

Even in death it was clear that Dean loved her. It seemed as if his body relaxed around her. It was a strange sight. To see the dead welcome the living. 

"He wants me to sell the car" Lisa murmured. 

"Pardon?"

"Dean. He said that if he goes before the car that I should sell it" 

"Why?"

"He told me a week before the accident that no one else would take care of that damn car like he did. So it'd be better being sold somehow."

Castiel paused before questioning the woman. The idea that selling a car seemed irrelevant to the situation, "Sam, his brother, has nothing to say about that?"

"Not at all. That car belonged to their father. I never got around to fully meet him. John Winchester. The man. The myth. The legend."

"He passed it down to Dean?"

"Dean loved that car. It was his home growing up. Sam never saw it as that. But, Dean, that car was his life."

"So why would he want you to sell it if it meant so much to him?" 

Lisa bite her lip and looked down. She muffled a few sobs and walked away from the body. She strolled over to an aged and weathered chair and sat down. "I have no idea. The car was his life. I guess if he wasn't alive the car wouldn't either or something. It made no sense. I don't know. I don't understand anything that's happened so far." 

"You mentioned his father. Would you rather talk about him? Will he be coming to the service?"

"No. That bastard's rotting wherever he is."

Castiel stood silent. He didn't want to say the wrong thing. There was no indication as to what remark would be acceptable or catastrophic. So he picked neither. 

"Do you want to know how we met?" 

Castiel nodded and pulled over a stool as Lisa began to speak.

"I was a young kind of girl. Ha, I can't believe this is actually happening, anyway...it was at this bar and we had a few drinks and talked. He was really nice and we had some kind of connection. You know? And after a few more rounds and a few more songs we went to my place. So after a one night-stand with a stranger from a bar I ended up with a number, the lingering smell of his car, and a few skipped periods. Fast forward six years later and there he was. Standing in front of my door with this pathetic look on his face. It seemed that he was crying, or had been, and I don't know why I did this but I let him in. It took some time for Dean to get adjusted. We had only spoken once before he came to my house. It was at the hospital the day our son had been born. I woke up after delivery and found him sitting there smiling and laughing with the baby in his arms. He was a natural. The way his eyes sparkled and his smile stretched across his cheeks. He was in heaven. I never found out how he knew I was in labor. He just showed up without a word and left without a goodbye." 

Castiel, intrigued with the story, nodded his head. 

"I know what you must be thinking right now. How could I have allowed the man of my son to disappear like that and never come back. Only to have him beg at my doorstep six years later to let him in. I still don't know to this day why I did. I guess it was love, but how? How could I have been in love with a man like him?" Lisa lowered her voice and closed her eyes. "I can still remember the first time he whispered in my ear. The chills I had all over my body. The excitement and comfort I had. It was riveting and safe all at once." She glanced over to the body and smiled. "I hope he's somewhere happier."

"Do you believe in heaven?" Castiel inquired. 

"I guess?" Lisa hesitated. 

"Do you think he's there?"

"I'd like to think" 

"Why?"

"He was a good person."

"In what way?"

Lisa scoffed and wiped her eyes. "In anyway possible Castiel. He was my husband. I gave my vow to love and cherish him forever. I loved him."

"That doesn't answer my question though."

"He was selfless, kind, respectful, resilient...all admirable qualities that I think you should take note of to be quite honest." Her brows furrowed. 

"I apologize if I'm coming off as harsh, but he was a person. No one can be perfect. It's not natural."

Lisa stood up and pushed the chair back behind her in a swift move. The legs scratched the floor and screamed in his ear. "You're right. No one  _can_ be perfect but we can all  _try_ to do so. Dean fucked up in life. Haven't we all? It's life. I understand he's gone, but this pain that I have inside me is something I've never had before. But don't you think for one second that this pain, that this knife I have in my stomach will prevent me from allowing you to tell me that Dean Winchester wasn't a good person." She narrowed her eyes on him and backed off. She crossed her arms and stood her ground. 

Stunned, Castiel nodded and apologized for his behavior. It was soon after that Lisa left. She took both the clothes Castiel had given her and the ones that she owned. She drove off in the very car that Dean had told her to sell and alas it was just the two of them again. 

The words stated by Lisa stung him. He didn't mean to be rude, but he wanted to dissect information for the service. Most clients spill out every detail about the deceased's life and suggest ideas what to be said and done at the memorial. Yet, with most of his clients Castiel never felt the frustration and anger that he had with Lisa. The way she looked at Dean. It infuriated him. Castiel knew he was being rash and inappropriate, but there was something about watching her interact with Dean that made his blood boil. He knew Dean was perfect. He didn't need to be told he was. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they look. It goes against the saying to never judge a book off its cover but in reality you could tell. It wasn't a true indication of the character of the individual, but you could tell by the way their skin looked or the way they stood of what kind of person he or she was. Just by looking at his body everyday Castiel could tell Dean was a catch. The callouses on his palms showed he worked with his hands often which most likely led to the conclusion he was a hard worker. His hair was kept short. He liked this to be efficient. Long hair would get in the way of things and would take time out of the precious hours of the day. His feet were dry and cracked which most likely meant he stood around frequently. He'd much rather be involved in doing rather than watching. He was a player. He didn't watch life from the sidelines. He lived it. 

 Once Castiel had finished brooding and cleaning up he walked over to Dean. 

"I don't like her. I think you could have done better."

Silence.

"She's unrealistic and annoying...she rubbed me the wrong way."

Silence.

"I wonder what you would have thought of me. To be quite honest I think I'm better than she is. I almost wish I was at that bar that night the two of you met."

Pale eyelids stared back at him. 

"I'm sorry life was so unfair to you. I don't know much but it sounded like it sucked. You worked hard and you tried in everything you did. Even your loved ones seemed to feel sorry for you. That's not right. That's just sad. I feel bad for you." 

Castiel analyzed the body and the same expression he had been staring at.

"You're special Dean. In ways I couldn't even begin to comprehend. I never met you and you never met me but I feel like I've known you forever. It's probably just infatuation. I'm only physically attracted to you. I don't know you. I could be completely wrong about you. But I feel like I'm not. There's something there. I can't reach it but it's in the back of my mind softly scratching in a place I can't reach. And it's driving me crazy." 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The sun rose early that day. A faint glimmer appeared under the thick curtains. Dust danced in the light. Castiel stirred in his sleep and the birds sung their morning melodies. It was brisk. The air nipped at his naked arms. His mind ached and yearned for peace. He didn't want to get out of bed. It was simple. His body was telling him to get up but his head was keeping him down. The alarm clock that sat beside the table flickered a dim "5:30". Another body was to come in today. Another stranger. Another story. 

Whenever a new client came in Castiel always had a sense of hesitation. He doubted himself in his work; and Lisa didn't help boost his confidence. The essence of his work was to help those grieve their lost ones. It was something he was a natural at, but he never  _lost_ one of his own. It was almost ironic. That a mortician never lost a loved one. Most likely because there were never special people in his life. Castiel was content with that. Romance never caught his eye. It was just extra nonsense to deal with. Emotionally he'd always feel uncomfortable opening up with people. The physical aspect was the only allure. To feel good and to  _feel_ good were two different things. He never understood how some people would open themselves to others physically, mentally, and emotionally. Just the thought of it drained the life out of him. He dated a girl once, she was nice. Physically attractive and stable emotionally. They were happy for a time, but it just seemed pointless. Relationships are supposed to be meaningful, but Castiel preferred his connection with the dead than with the living. There wasn't a point to the living ones. Their story was still being told. He didn't want to be apart of that. He wanted to watch the highlight videos and spectacles that once was. So he eventually broke it off with the girl. They cried together and left each other. She went on to become successful in her career and marry another man. She was now happily married with a couple of kids and one on the way. He was happy for her. He knew that her new life was more valuable than the one she lived with him. It never bothered him. It was fact. 

Reluctantly he pulled himself out of bed. The birds still bellowed their tunes and he sluggishly took a shower. The hot water streamed over his body. It soothed his muscles and made him feel better. His favorite thing to do in the shower was to increase the temperature every so often and feel the difference on his skin. He loved the feeling of the change in the water. From hot to hotter. It reminded him of something. Perhaps it was the change in life. Or maybe it was a subtle reminder of control. Whatever it was he enjoyed feeling the burn with every gradual increase. 

The shower helped wake him up. It was a small stall with a big head. The glass door steamed to the top and the gold accents were hidden behind the mist. His bathroom was small. The sink was beside the shower and every time he'd open the door he'd have to make sure the sink wouldn't break it. Once he was all cleaned up Castiel strolled to his room. His towel was wrapped around his hip and the cold air licked the water away. He opened the thick curtains and was greeted with a dim world. The sun was barely up. It rays laid on the horizon. The morning stars greeted him hello, but quickly faded away. He liked this time of day. To him it was like time traveling. This was the world before the hustle and bustle of urbanization occurred. This was what his ancestors looked at. The world was waking up and it was beautiful. 

Anna wouldn't come in today. Her exams were almost upon her and she was a nervous wreck, especially after the vase accident. Castiel still hadn't fixed it. Instead he tossed it in the trash bin and made a sandwich. It belonged to his great-grandmother. He never met her. It was irrelevant. There was always a difference between a want and need. To need something was that it was a tool for survival. People had survived without families and intimate things. It was just more baggage to carry. He wanted this to be efficient. Much like Dean did. He felt that they shared the similarity together. Efficiency and desire were the beasts of living. 

Once he dressed himself he put on a watch that was given to him by a former love. It was from a man. It was a lovely silver watch that was very expensive. There was engraving on its back. Something along the lines of " _To my Castiel_ " or " _Truly yours_ ". Either way it was some cheesy romantic statement. A few months later they broke up. Castiel wasn't going anywhere with it. His lover moved abroad. From the picture he posted on Facebook and social media Castiel knew that wherever it was, whether it was Budapest to Rome, he was happy. Castiel was glad for him. It was one less thing for him to worry about. It others were happy Castiel was ecstatic.  _  
_

His family worried for him sometimes. They knew and understood his preferences but they never understood his choices.  _Why haven't you settled down with anyone yet Castiel? I just met a lovely girl from town, she's single. Hey man, I found a really hot dude last night. I gave him your number._  It was all the same. Love wasn't a necessity. He was quite capable of love. For instance his job. He loved his job. That was enough for him. He didn't want someone to come in a fuck it all up. 

But then there came Dean. Who would have thought that a dead body was capable of so much. His life was turned upside down when that boy came in. The physical attraction was there, but the way his loved ones talked about him Castiel felt that there was something underneath those looks. A beautiful man inside and out. You can tell a lot about a person by the things said by the ones who knew them. That was what made funerals so enjoyable for him. By how many people attended or cried. What was said or how it was arranged. From the first apology to the people who volunteered to put the casket down the grave. It was all an indication. He was once at a funeral for an old woman. She died of cancer, but by the size of her guests you would have thought she was a mayor of a town. The funeral procession continued for miles. It was in the country, but there were people from New Jersey, California and even Washington. This one woman touched the lives of so many. The amount of tears that were shed could have filled an ocean. Castiel stood behind the tent that covered the casket. It was raining that day. The cemetery was just mud and grass but all of these people stood there to watch their loved one be finally laid to rest. The nephews of the woman picked up her casket. Grown men. Some were fathers. And they were sobbing. It was interesting. After the service, family and close friends went to the widow's home. It was only a few blocks away from the cemetery. Castiel was invited but he politely declined. 

Instead he stayed behind. Waited for all the guests to leave. He sat in his car as he watched men, women, and children lay roses on the woman's casket. It was amazing. That all these people were here and watched that one casket. They were surrounded by tombstones but there was only one that caused them to grieve. Someone told him that everyone knew she was going to die. It was inevitable. The extremity that the cancer grew to. She was expected to live a few months but lasted a year. It was amazing that she was still walking a year later. And yet people were crying. The husband never did. He stood there and shook hands with everyone who gave their condolences. His two sons had a harder time than he did. That intrigued Castiel. Perhaps it was because the widow prepared before his wife took her final breath. He wasn't sure. It was life. People were born and people died. That was life. He never understood why people cried at funerals. Everyone dies. That was that. Maybe shed a teat but get over it. Move on.

He knew that wasn't a popular opinion. But there were some who agreed with him. At least one at every funeral he attended. At the woman's funeral it was a young woman. He never caught her name. He couldn't read her mind, but he knew what she felt. She wasn't crying. She just sat there. She didn't have an expression. Those who sat beside her on both sides were hysterically sobbing but she was not. 

He went downstairs and prepared his usual breakfast. The house was quiet except for a few creaks here and there. The new body would be delivered soon. He had to get ready.

Lisa's words stung him as his hands trembled. The coffee in his mug rippled to the edges and the froth dissipated. She was Dean's widow and she wasn't the first one there to meet with Castiel. Lisa should have been there for Dean. Sam was the only one who made the effort to see his brother, but to see her own husband wasn't enough for her to get up and see him. It made no sense to him. It made him furious but his ears burned. A lump scratched his throat and secreted hot liquid down into the pit of his stomach sucking him whole. Water stains trickled around the mug. He was crying. Castiel had no idea why. His eyes were soaked, but he felt numb.  _How long have I been crying?_  He thought. He hustled to the closest mirror and looked at his eyes. The blue pool was immersed in an ocean of blood. He wasn't  _actually_ bleeding but the vibrancy of the blood cells and the opacity made it seem like he was. He was crying because his eyes were so dry. They were so dry and irritated that he hadn't realized the need for moisture. 

Concerned, he looked in the medicine cabinet upstairs to find eye drops to somehow soothe his menacing eyes when the doorbell rung. 

"Crap" Castiel muttered as he dropped one dose in his left eye. He left the container on the counter and hurried downstairs. Frantically, he ran his fingers through his messy hair and fumbled over the last three buttons on his shirt. 

The door bell rung again. 

 _Shit this is the new client_  

He swung the door so fast that a gust of air whooshed past the woman standing at his door. She gave a faint chuckle, and extended a delicate and welcoming hand. 

"Mary Winchester, it's so nice to meet you" she smiled. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, aren't you going to shake my hand?" The woman joked as her hand rested in midair for a few seconds before Castiel nervously clasped it. 

"Oh, nice to meet you ma'm. My name is Castiel. Castiel Novak"

"I know who you are"

"You do?" His voice cracked.  _Was this? Oh my god. It couldn't be._

"Yes, you're looking after my boy for the time being. I thought I should see him one last time" she smiled softly. There was a hint of ache in her cheeks, but her eyes said otherwise. "May I come in?"

Mary had to ask a second time before Castiel registered her initial question. She could tell he was nervous. It looked like he hadn't slept in ages. 

"Would you like something to eat or, or something to drink?" Castiel rummaged through the living room trying to make it look somewhat presentable. He kept apologizing under his breath about the appearance of his home. It wasn't very professional and the mother of a client was someone he  _definitely_ needed to please. 

Mary kept a cracked smile etched across her face as she stood patiently for Castiel. He didn't look up for a few minutes until she cleared her throat. 

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry. Woul-would you like to see your son?"

Mary nodded.

Castiel showed her the way down the stairs and turned the lights. Dean was out. His body laid on the same metal table he had been on for the past few days. He started to smell a little but the formaldehyde overcame it. A silent conversation occurred between Castiel and Mary. She turned to him and lowered her head. He bowed and walked up stairs. He connected with her. He knew what she was here for and he loved how she approached it. With most mothers of deceased children he had to drag them out or lure them out with tissues. If anyone was a mess it was him and he could deal with that. 

As he closed the door to the basement he heard Mary's voice faintly through the crack. He lingered away momentarily, but his curiosity got to the best of him and he started to listen. 

"Hi honey" 

Silence

"How you doing?"

Silence

"You look pretty comfortable. Hmph, I bet you are"

A forced laugh followed by more silence. The legs of a chair screeched and a thump was made.

"Ah, now that's better"

Silence

"Sammy misses you. He's taking it a lot harder. You practically raised him I can see why that would happen. He hasn't slept, bathed, or eaten right ever since the accident. It hit him hard. The family is trying to cope. Bobby, Jo, Kevin, hell even that British guy cries at night"

A choked back sob welcomed more silence.

"It's such a shame. You. I'm sorry Dean. I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. I'm sorry for not helping. I'm sorry for being gone when you and Sam needed me. John, your father, god I don't even know where to begin. He changed. He just wasn't the same. And I'm so sorry you had to endure the monster he became. I'm sorry that you were forced to grow up so fast. It was the one thing as a mother I had to do, and, I failed"

The air conditioner kicked in and disrupted the stillness of the air.

"All I ever wanted for you boys was to have a normal life. To have the life I never had. Instead I pissed it all away. You and your brother had your childhood stolen. You never grew up the way a kid's supposed to. You were taught to be afraid or be strong enough to fight back. That's no way to live for two boys under 8 to do. I can still remember those nights when you were just a little boy. How you'd beg for me to sing for you every night before I gave you your kiss goodnight. Your father was there. He would stand in the doorway and hum along. He never cared to admit it but he did. You and I both knew it" she chuckled and sniffled back the tears. 

"Whatever happened to us Dean? Whatever happened to our family?"

Silence

"I know you probably can't hear me, but please, listen. Wherever you may be. Whether heaven or hell do exist, I need you to listen to me for this one last time sweetheart, promise me that okay? I love you, okay? I always did and I always will. Watch out for us okay baby? Watch out for your family. Mama loves you" 

Silence 

The chair was slowly pushed back and Castiel walked into the living room and straightened the magazines sprawled across the table. Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs and the door hinges slowly creaked. Mary strolled to the couch patting her eyes with a tissue. Her eyes were swollen and blotchy. She rubbed at the snot formed at the bottom of her nostrils. She smiled at Castiel. It wasn't much of one but the effort was there. She was putting on her brave face for him and for her. Castiel slide over a box of tissues and gave her a nod. This was all routine. Nothing new about this. It was just another typical day at work. Nothing strange. 

"Now, Mr. Novak"

"Please, Castiel"

"All right, well, Castiel may I ask you a question?"

"Go right ahead"

"When was the last time you slept?"

Startled Castiel wasn't sure he heard her right, "Oh, pardon me, may you repeat that I don't think I heard you correctly"

She blew her nose and stared at him with an empty expression. The lively and welcoming woman he saw moments prior was gone. She left. She wasn't here anymore. "When was the last time you had a good night's rest?" 

"Last night"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Is it because of Dean? Is this all too much for you to handle?"

"What? Of course not. I'm perfectly fine I feel as great as I'll ever be"

Mary arched an eyebrow. She leaned into the plush couch and stared him down. 

"I hardly believe that"

"Okay so my eyes are really bloodshot today, it's probably nothing. Maybe an allergic reaction to something I ate"

"Speaking of which. When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning"

"Really?"

Castiel started to get perturbed. This woman was the mother of a client, but she certainly wasn't  _his_ mother. "Look, I can assure you that I'm in good condition for work. My health is nothing for you to be concerned about. I promise"

"You know Dean promised me never to drink behind the wheel. See where that got him." Her eyes glassed over into an icy steel. His cheeks burned and his palms started to sweat.

"Mary, I don't see how any of this has to do with  _that_ "

"It seems to have everything to do with  _that_ Castiel"

"I fail to see your conclusion to that"

Mary leaned forward and rested her cheek on her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were still tears welled up. Her cheeks were red and white and mouth appeared chaffed. Her voice was surprisingly relaxed and steady as she spoke. It looked as if she was about to break down any moment, but there she was. Staring down Castiel in his own living room. 

"You're speaking to a mother who lost her son to an easily avoidable accident. Something so simple and yet so catastrophic that it destroyed the lives of so many. And here you are. Tending to the body of a man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time while you yourself could be putting yourself at risk. Don't tell me there's nothing wrong with you Castiel. You're lying to a mother"

"Excuse me, but again, I fail to see the correlation of any of this to Dean or his funeral."

"I don't want to have another mother go through what I'm going through now damnit"

Castiel piped down and sunk into the chair. 

"Dean probably wasn't sober at the time of his accident"

"But...the reports" Castiel whispered

"The reports came back negative, I know. But I know my son. I know who he's related to. His father was a drunk. Hell, I could keep my whiskey down and do stupid stuff without causing much damage. That boy was always throwing back a cold one. I know how everyone sees him as this great man he was. And he was. He really was. But even all heroes have their weakness. It just happened to be alcohol for my boy. I'm not surprised to be honest quite frankly"

"I don't understand. Mary, why are you telling me this?"

"I know Sam and Lisa have come to visit you. The night before Sam came to visit he was up all night picking out photos to show you. He barely slept. I'm amazed he got here and back in one piece"

"And..."

"And Lisa? I told her to come. I thought she would give more insight into who Dean really was. Sam, he's biased. He doesn't want to admit it. But who could blame him? Dean raised him. To Sam, Dean was everything he strived to be"

"So what is it you're trying to tell me?"

"Dean wasn't perfect"

His heart dropped. It wasn't immediate but it was like the way a child falls from a swing set. He was up in the air. Feet high above the ground and wind blowing through him. He was flying that is until the weight of the world dragged him back to reality. 

"No. I don't believe that"

"Really? What makes you entitled to that opinion?"

"Dean, he couldn't have done anything so stupid like that. I know it"

"Sweetheart, you only knew him for a few days. He's been in a drawer in your basement for all of them"

"I know. Trust me I do"

"No. This is ridiculous. I don't know what you're trying to tell me, and whatever it is you're trying to say I don't believe it"

"You can believe whatever it is you want, but you know that I'm telling the truth"

"What makes you think you know that!" Castiel shouted. He was standing up and glared down at Mary. She was so calm. Her body cascaded on the pillows and her face looked tenderly at him.

"Because a mother knows her child"

Castiel didn't want to hear it. She just wanted him to stop with the bond he was creating with Dean. Whatever it was she wanted to do it wasn't in the best interest of either of them. 

"I heard what you said to him" Castiel sputtered out.

" _What?_ " Mary's face grew colder and fragile.

"I heard what you said to him. About how you love him and how you want him to look out for the family...well guess what. Family doesn't say that their own was a mistake and a failure"

"I never said that"

"You just did! You just said that he made mistakes! You _just_  said you failed him!" Castiel started hysterically crying. He threw hands on the table and caused Mary to jump. He rested his hands on his head and paced the room trying to catch his breath. 

Mary sat in silence carefully crossing her legs and tapping her finger on her knee. She wasn't trying to make an abrupt noises that would somehow cause Castiel to explode again. She was  _too_ familiar with this game. She had played it enough times. The first one to crack was the one who always got beat. 

"I'm sorry. That was inexcusable and entirely unprofessional. I understand if you want a refund and I can give you the body tomorrow so you can finish your services elsewhere." Castiel announced to the wall. His back faced Mary and his arms still extended above him. The sunlight shone through the crack between the curtains and caused her blonde hair to glisten. 

"Castiel? You're right"

He spun on his heel so fast that he always fell over, "What?"

"You're right. He was perfect"

"But, you. You just said"

"I know what I said. And I was wrong. Dean may have had his imperfections, but to the very core of his existence he was everything a man could and should have been"

Castiel tilted his head at the woman. He could hear her words but he was perplexed.  _She agreed with him? After he pulled a stunt like that? In front of her?_

"I'm glad you see it that way, despite our unusual way of debating..." He said

"No one can be perfect can they?" She smirked at him

"Not really, but..."

"But Dean. He was everything wasn't he?"

"Yes, yes he was" Castiel trailed off at the end of his sentence. Mary stood up and smiled at him. She shook his hand firmly and left without much of a goodbye. 

"I'm glad you see it that way" Her eyes seemed to have a curtain around them. There was a fog over them that wasn't there before. Castiel opened the door for her and watched her leave. As she walked down the steps to the driveway he noticed she started to dab at her eyes again. He didn't see a car, but he heard faint jingles as she walked down the hill. Her tan coat swayed in the wind and her heels clacked against the pavement. He thin curls bounced with each step. And even though Castiel didn't know it at the time, but this wouldn't be the last time he saw Mrs. Winchester. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I HAVEN'T BEEN UPDATING AT ALL
> 
> I'M REALLY SORRY BUT I'VE BEEN HAVING A LOT OF WRITER'S BLOCK SO PLEASE MESSAGE ME @kibblewinchester ON TUMBLR OR LEAVE A COMMENT OR ANYTHING BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY MAKING THIS UP AS I GO 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT OR SUGGESTION HERE OR ON MY TUMBLR
> 
> ANYTHING WILL BE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Everything Mary said to him nipped at him. The way her attitude changed so dramatically. The sharp contrast between her introduction and cheery welcome to the harsh and cold machine she was when she left. He supposed that had to do with seeing her first son dead before her. That wouldn't have been the first time. But she seemed like she came on a mission. Almost as if she was sent to Castiel for some reason. A reason he would never know, but could only speculate about. Her eyes were similar to Dean's. Besides the vibrancy of the blue irises her and Dean shared a common characteristic. Their eyes glistened with each roll. The way the whits of their eyes looked so pure and soaked in the light that surrounded them they were some of the most enchanting eyes he had ever seen. 

He was still confused by her appearance however. She did not provide him with any information that would have been useful for the service. If anything it appeared as if she was interviewing Castiel for her boy. A strange thought indeed, but something he could live with. He liked Dean. He was one of the few patients he felt a strong connection with. Maybe it was a connection? A bond? Who ever really knew those type of things. It was all sort of silly to him. Fate, destiny, higher powers. He was believer, but he thought that something higher than him had power over his life. He was in control of his own life, and destiny. After recollecting what Mary mentioned to him earlier his brain tricked him into remembering his terrifying dreams from a few nights earlier. He still had no idea what they were meant for. He shrugged it off as some kind of bad dream or weird dream from eating too late. He searched online the significances of dream and with each source he got varied answers. There was no clear indication of what dreams were. He concluded that it was a way for the brain to keep active so it wouldn't stay at rest forever. A philosophical approach to something so typical, yes. But that's what he lived for. That was his  _work anyway_. 

Life as a funeral director was just as bored as you would imagine it. It would be him and his thoughts. They can be a dangerous things. Thoughts can make anything happen. From the idea of the wheel to murder of millions. Any thought could be made to be good and bad. Every choice had a consequence. He pondered the consequence of loving Dean Winchester. Was there much to it? No. He wouldn't do anything to Dean. He just loved him. His body was perfect. His face was gorgeous. The way his hair curled behind his ears made Castiel think of Dean in a tenderly fashion. It was weird to fantasize a dead man like the way Castiel did with Dean. He never liked the idea of bringing the dead back to life and imaging what it would hav ebeen like to fuck his current clients. It weirded him out. He didn't like to think about that. But with Dean...there were a few exceptions. He never pictured having full on sex with Dean, but he did picture cuddling. PG-13 stuff more than anything. He pictured Dean as a soft kisser who would hold the back of his neck and pull him in tight for an embrace. Castiel saw him as a player who take care of his interests. He was always on the prowl, but when something caught his eye his undivided attention would be right at the one who caught his attention originally. Castiel didn't care if Dean liked girls. Castiel did too. They were fun. Their breasts were so soft during sex. The plumpness and delicacy. Their structure amazed him. Each breast had its own personality. Perhaps that's what interested him so much about the physical aspects of women. His previous girlfriend had some nice boobs. During sex he'd hold onto them and they'd warm his cold fingers. Pleasurable for both parties, Castiel would rub and caress them. Knead at them slowly and firmly. He wanted the pleasure of his partner to be maximized. Something told him that Dean would do the same thing. With each tug and pull Dean would make sure the one he was fucking was  _being fucked._ He wasn't the one to hold back. Castiel could see the man in front of him going down on people and kissing them over their warm parts.  _  
_

He stopped himself for a moment.

 _Was I just having a wet dream about a dead guy?_  Castiel asked himself...His mind was silent. He knew the truth he just didn't want to admit it. He tried to shrug it off but it didn't leave his imagination. He left Dean in the basement and got back to work. He filed papers and organized folders. Tedious tasks amounted to nothing for him. Textbooks were the bane of his existence. His hobby was to further expand his mind. Currently he was taking extra courses at the local college in classes that wouldn't be added to a GPA and final credit score. He graduated long ago. Those things didn't matter to him. He wanted to enrich his mind. Knowledge is power. He'd always tell himself that. He strived to be tactical because with knowledge anything could happen. 

His dreams eluded him however. There was no point to them. What were they if they had no meaning to him? He usually remembered his dreams that made quite the affect on him and was usually able to figure out why. Yet the one he had had a few days prior haunted him. Haunted him like the spawn of Satan was sleeping with him every night and edged closer to fully embracing the new recruit. 

Nothing about grids made sense to him. Perhaps he hated order? Everything about him was too perfect. He always did ask for more exciting adventures to occur. He had even asked it would happen when he was younger. That was the universe for you. The minute you beg for something the way it works in mysterious ways. How does it function. Where did we get the idea to supply it in the way that we do. 

He couldn't say for sure, but he had his suspicions. What bothered him the most of his dream was the feeling of never stopping. Never ending failures or hopes. Dreams that would never come true. Working in the end for nothing. He had always wanted to strive to do great things, beautiful things. Yet there was always self-doubt. He was his own Goliath. 

Despite his name being inspired by an angel he was never religious. He was respectful but it never ruled his life, yet he always enjoyed reading his children's Bible when he was younger. The fantastical stories of overcoming bad and inspiring the world to follow the way of Christ. He didn't pay attention to the modern influences the book had. He read it simply as a book. In his opinion, one of the greatest books ever written. As he grew older he would realize how much his life  _didn't_ revolve around The Bible. During his teenage years he realized that one of the biggest reasons he loved looking at the pictures shown in the illustrated book was because of some of the  _mildly_ inappropriate scenes depicted. Essentially teenage Castiel realized he nearly jacked off to biblical stories. It ranged from Jacob's wedding to David and Bathsheba. It wasn't until years after that he realized he was using The Bible as porn for kids. He knew there was something "bad" about him wanting to look at the book so often, but it felt good. There was no way he was going to let some doubt let him get in his way of feeling  _good_. 

Castiel laughed and thought to himself, _I've been a kinky fuck from the beginning_

Boredom and eagerness do not make a combination. Castiel found himself going downstairs again to pay his favorite client a visit. It wasn't that he liked to look at Dean or touch him. His mind and actions were polar opposites from each other (which he was often very grateful for) but he felt comforted by Dean's presence. Even more so than before. Dean's past became more clearer to him. An alcoholic and family issues. It didn't seem like a lot of issues, but Castiel could relate. Maybe that was what love is. 

He never experienced that before. Love. What a strange and benign concept. It's been used in every story created, or so it seemed like. There wasn't a good story that didn't have love involved with it. Whatever made that one word so memorable? He assumed that it was the way it made a person feel. It was just chemicals though. Nonetheless just a simple reaction within the brain. Was it more? He couldn't tell. He just knew that he felt something when he was in Dean's presence. It wasn't like when he was alone. That feeling of solitude and being in the center of your own universe. Castiel was the only person he knew about and cared about when it was just him. He wasn't sure if others felt the same way. However, it was hesitant to decide that whatever it was that he felt or  _recognized_ while in the presence of Dean Winchester was love. A rash decision like that could result in ugly results. His closest encounters with love was with failed relationships, so clearly it wasn't territory that he was prepared to dive into. 

It did bother him that reality came back to him every few moments or so to remind him that Dean was  _dead_. Could he really love someone that wasn't really there? Children still love their pets after they have died. Spouses love their deceased partners. Children move on and love their parents once they've died. Maybe that was something about love that made it so revolutionary? It could be felt even when there wasn't anything there to touch or to know. It was just an idea. 

_But what about hate?_

His mind always loved to challenge him. 

_Hate can travel generations. It doesn't discriminate. It can pick anyone._

_Maybe that's why it's always been love and hate._ _One cannot exist without the other._

_Ridiculous. Love and hate aren't the only emotions that can exist more than a lifetime._

He made a point to himself. Maybe love wasn't so revolutionary after all. Humans only liked it because it made us feel good. We've always liked to feel good. Especially when we knew it was bad. It felt good to be bad. 

Mary Winchester returned to his mind. Her voice echoed in his memory.

" _I love you okay? I always did and I always will_ "

Did that answer his question? 


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel returned from the burial of Dean Winchester. 

Sam emailed him regarding the specifics of the day. Burial first. Service second. Dean didn't want people to look at his dead body as they grieved over him. So Castiel obliged. The service was to start in the evening in a small town church. It was kept simple. Not a photo of Dean appeared. Castiel sat in the back as he watched friends and family shake the hands of Dean's immediate family. Sam did not shed a tear throughout the whole ordeal. Perhaps it was because he had nothing left in him. He stood tall and his suit fitted him nicely. The jacket may have been slightly too large with its sleeves reaching his knuckles as he stood. A man who Castiel recognized as Bobby from the pictures stood beside him. His head was partially bald with a few wisps of hair to cover him and his beard was nicely groomed. He never touched anyone. His hands were folded nicely over each other. He would stare at the floor and nod his head when people walked by would send their condolences. Lisa stood at the end. Castiel rolled his eyes. 

 _So she finally did decide to show up_  

Her hair was curled and her small body was overwhelmed with a long black dress. It covered her entirely. Up to her neck and to the floor. It was simple. Her son, Ben, would sometimes stand beside her and sometimes excuse himself. Ben walked by Castiel four or five times. On his way out he would be biting his lips and looking down and when he returned he would be sniffling and wiping his eyes. He tried to be brave. The effort was there. Castiel felt bad for the kid. He didn't know what he was doing. His suit was a little big on him too. The pants would run on the floor and begin to tear. His tie was poorly done. He struggled, but he was trying. That was all anyone could have asked from him. 

The service slowly began. It was quite obvious that the majority there was reluctant to start. Men and women helped each other to their seats. Children were either oblivious to the situation or the ones holding their mother's hand as they wiped their little noses. Then a weary man stood up and walked over to the podium. His hair was combed back and his beard kept. He struggled to clear his throat and even from the back Castiel could see the red splotches and puffy eyes. 

"Now I ain't never really done this before but...I'll make this the exception" the old man started.

"We are all gathered here today to celebrate the life of a great man. Dean Winchester" he struggled to cough up the last part.

"Dean, he was a man of many words. I loved that boy like he was my own. Now I don't know how I'm supposed to carry this kind of thing out. But, I'll just go ahead, and uh, I'll tell you a story about Dean. When he was a little kid." he pulled out a crinkled piece of paper and hesitated. 

"He was only seven or nine. Not that old and I took him out to get supplies for the house. Now as most of you probably know he has... _had_ a younger brother, Sam. So as Dean and I went to the store we left little Sammy home. And I swear I almost knocked this boy's teeth out, ha. The entire damn car trip he would  _not_ shut his trap. It seemed every word that came out of his mouth was about Sam. I ain't never seen more responsibility in a kid than I did in any adult. He always cared. He knew what was right and what was wrong. And he never questioned it. Now I know this isn't much a story, but I felt it was a good one to tell you who Dean really was. He wasn't just your average guy off the block. He was an ass sometimes, but aren't we all? Given the circumstances that he had as a little kid, well you know being raised by a single father who wasn't around that often... he did good. I bet there ain't a single bad bone in that kid at all. Sure he's screwed up sometimes, but he always made sure that he had a ass-uh I mean, tuckus, covered. I loved that boy and I always will. I hope wherever it is he's at he's resting easy."

The man wiped his face and scurried off into the pews. For a moment there was just silence. No one got up to the podium to say anything about Dean. This allowed for Castiel's brain to wander...

_Raised by a single father? But I just saw Mary. She seemed like she was around Dean a lot as a child. What was this guy talking about?_

Then a young woman walked up. She had her blonde hair pulled back and wore a simple dress. She had a solemn look and kept her eyesight down. As she stepped up to the podium there was a feedback that caused her to jump back momentarily. Embarrassed, she addressed the crowd.

"Sorry 'bout that."

She folded her hands and rested them on the stand. Her eyes glanced over to the casket and sniffled. 

"Life isn't fair sometimes. There are just things that can get to the worst of us. We don't ask to be put here in this place. On this world. But there comes a time when someone is  _put_ here. My life before Dean Winchester was just your average joe-no pun intended-but the day I met this young, cute, cocky guy I knew things were gonna turn around. He came off like a jerk but he cared. He emulated compassion. He had the type of...presence that would make you feel instantly comfortable with you. I remember one day I snuck off and Dean and his brother came to help me. I didn't ask for any of it, but nevertheless he was right there for me. Through tight situations to explosive moments there was always one person I could count on to be there. Whether it was for me or someone else this man, he had a purpose, he had a purpose for this world. And it sucks. It sucks to see something like that tossed away. I may have been a tiny part of his life, but for me and I'm sure I can vouch for many people, he changed the way you saw life."

She smiled with tears streaming down his face and walked over to her mother who gave her a hug and stroked her hair.

As the ceremony continued, similar stories came up about the compassion and selflessness Dean had. Not a bad word was said. 

Sam stood up towards the end. He had been crying the entire time and still was by the time he got to the podium. He straightened his tie and smoothed jacket. 

"I just wanted to start by thanking all of you. It means everything to me and Dean, for the kind and loving words you have brought here today. I have truly been moved and I know  _he_ would have too." he paused and stared at his shoes. 

"You all know the story I'm sure. The story about how my brother saved me. Before he even knew me he was willing to give up his life for me. I think that day was what set Dean to be the man that he came to be. He was my brother. He always  _will_ be my brother. But he was just a man too. He had his fears, ha. Like planes and low-calorie pies" he chuckled as the visitors joined him in unison. 

"He had his dreams and goals. He always wanted a family. And I would like to add one thing too. Lisa, I could not thank you enough for the love and support you gave my brother. He adored you and loved every moment with you."

Castiel rolled his eyes and shrunk into his seat. 

"We've been to hell and back, my brother and I. We've been through a lot. And he's always been there right beside me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is how I'm going to end it. If enough people want me to continue with this story I'm thinking about doing an epilogue. Please give me feedback on what would be best. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed


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